


The Notebook

by badfanficmay (alljustgonetohell)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Post-Civil War (Marvel), admittedly bad fic, playing a bit fast and loose with the canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:57:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alljustgonetohell/pseuds/badfanficmay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve regrets letting Bucky put himself back in suspension, and tries to find a way to bring him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Notebook

**Author's Note:**

> I hated the mid-credits scene. I don’t think it made any sense for Steve to willingly let Bucky ice himself. This is my attempt to ameliorate some of the problems a bit. 
> 
> \--
> 
> Fic number four of bad fanfic May, which is my attempt to get myself to write every day AND to not worry so much about posting stuff that isn't as great as it could be.

Bucky had been in suspension for a week before Steve started to lose it. It seemed so reasonable when Bucky laid it out, but the longer they were separated the less sense it made.

“I have no idea what they put into my head, Steve,” Bucky had said. “Anything could set me off and I’d hurt people. Steve…” Bucky had frowned and broken Steve’s heart. “I’m so tired of hurting people.”

Steve had put on a brave face, so Bucky wouldn’t go into that deep, cold sleep worrying about him. And he’d put on a brave face for T’Challa, excellent host that he was being, and for the ravaged Avengers, who didn’t need to see their leader in pain over a friend. He hadn’t liked it a bit, though. All that fighting to keep Bucky alive—and to protect the world from what they thought was a threat against more than just the Avengers—and he felt like he had just given Bucky over to death. 

It was hard to argue with Bucky’s fear. Steve had tried anyway. He told Bucky they would try exposure therapy. Use whatever triggers they knew about over and over, until Bucky stopped feeling compelled by them. But Bucky was sure that there were more triggers, locked away in his head, that he couldn’t remember and weren’t in the paltry few records they’d managed to find. 

More importantly was the question of Bucky’s safety, and the safety of everyone around him. Not from Bucky this time, but from the people who wanted to kill him. Just talking about this made Bucky go quiet and still, and Steve knew it was because he really didn’t blame anyone for wanting him dead. It was easier to keep him under wraps if he wasn’t walking around. T’Challa was king and could make sure his countrymen knew that Bucky had been framed, and they’d leaked it to the global press as well, but it was better not to risk it. He had so much blood on his hands, even if those hands had been someone else’s weapons at the time. 

Still, Steve was lonely. It was one thing when he’d thought Bucky was dead and he’d mourned and, as much as he was able to after losing what felt like the most dear part of himself, had moved on. It was one thing when Bucky was on the run from everyone, including Steve. But when Bucky was alive, in the same building, and at any moment Wakandan doctors could thaw him and Steve could hear his voice again, the longing was almost too much to stand. He didn’t just miss Bucky, he felt less alone in the world when Bucky was around. Bucky would understand when he wanted to complain about modern technology, with the ways that people had changed, with how foreign the smallest parts of life felt. He finally had one person who would understand how he felt, and just after reuniting, with barely the time to reconnect, Bucky was lost to him again. 

Steve knew he couldn’t just wake Bucky up. Bucky had made the choice to go under, and Steve couldn’t take that away unless he could tell Bucky they had a way to fix him. 

“Natasha?” He found her meditating. They didn’t have much to do in Wakanda, other than train and keep in fighting shape for the next disaster. Learn the local language—although of course most Wakandans spoke English. And several other languages. There were no Shield (or whatever Fury was calling his resurrected organization) missions, although they were sure that Fury knew where they were and was keeping tabs. Nor any freelance work. They stayed put, took up hobbies, and were grateful for T’Challa’s generosity. 

Natasha unfolded herself from the lotus position. “Steve, what’s up?”

“That notebook that Zemo used to control Bucky. The US government has it, right?”

A momentary look clouded Natasha’s face. She knew exactly where this question was leading. “Yes.”

“We need to get it.”


End file.
